Don't get too close It's dark inside
by gusenitsa
Summary: Very late birthday present for pirate-owl. Because we both needed to see the nightlife hypnosis scene from niko's perspective! (One shot. I may create a collection of one shots here if I am so inspired but not sure yet)


( _**Oh good, another set of brothers to obsess over; thanks pirate-owl! )**_

* * *

It seemed like a good idea at the time.

That's what they always say. Except this time it hadn't. I should have listened to that voice in the back of my mind. The paranoid bastard who thought so much as letting the kid walk across the street alone was a tragedy in the making.

I should have listened.

* * *

"I don't know, Goodfellow. It strikes me as somewhat risky. I'm not entirely sure that the information gained would be worth Cal remembering his time with the Auphe."

"If worse comes to worst and it's that unbearable, I'll leave the memories locked in his subconscious." Goodfellow pointed out. "He wouldn't remember a thing once he came out of it."

"Guys," Cal cut in. I held a hand up to stall him. I knew what Cal was going to say, of course, but he needed to hear all the risks." It sounds easy enough in theory, but theorems and proofs are two distinctly different entities. I don't especially want my brother used as a guinea pig."

"It simply isn't as dangerous as you're making it out to be. Getting the memories out might be difficult. Leaving them hidden isn't. That's their natural state now, be it an Auphe construct or a Caliban one. If I don't want him to remember, he won't."

Tired of being ignored, Cal slapped the table for attention and repeated his injunction. "Guys!"

_Shit_.

"Believe it or not, I think this is my decision. Not yours, Niko, and definitely not yours, Goodfellow." He looked annoyed and I wondered if I had miscalculated. I should have wholeheartedly endorsed the plan. Little else would convince my little brother to reconsider it. "Got me?" Cal was looking right at me and I gave him a slight nod. I hated it when he was right.

"And what have you decided?" Robin asked, looking altogether too eager for my taste.

"I'm still thinking." Well that was something, at least. The fact that he even slowed down to consider was either reassuring or disquieting. I settled quickly on disquieting. Cal changed the subject and I studied my plate without interest in it or their conversation.

"I think I have lost my appetite," I mumbled.

* * *

Cal vanished into his room after lunch. Goodfellow finished his own plate then mine, his appetite not in the least affected by the possibility of unleashing hell inside my little brother's head.

I eyed him warily, wondering if the healthy appetite was a symptom of confidence or foolishness.

"Tell me exactly how this is going to work."

"Can't a man finish his lunch before-"

"Talk fast."

Goodwin sighed but he did, he explained the entire process from top to bottom, dodging my pointed questions like the expert salesman that he was. Salesmanship. A sick feeling in my stomach wondered if this were no more than salesmanship. A new toy to play with, was that all Cal was to him?

I think Goodfellow was in the middle of a sentence when I spoke again. I didn't care.

"You are confident, you can do this without him needing to remember it afterwards? Any of it? Think very carefully before you answer. Your life may well depend on it."

Goodfellow's salesman charm dropped for a moment. It made him look older, more serious. Probably part of the pitch.

"Why would I offer if I thought it would break him? I like my life. Adore it, actually. And I am acutely aware of the kind of enemy I would make if I hurt him. I don't want you for an enemy. I want- I want you to trust me."

I watched him for a moment, looking for a sign of dishonesty, of uncertainty. There was none. Goodfellow was the picture of competent confidence.

"So, you ready to slap the whammy on me or what?" Cal waltzed back into the room with that damn sweatshirt on and an air of carefree cheer that even someone who hadn't known him his whole life would know was a front.

"You've decided, then," I asked unnecessarily. It wasn't really a question. I'd known his decision before he'd even left the room. Possibly before he did.

"Yeah, I have." Cal crouched by the couch, all easy confidence. All a lie, of course. "I feel pretty good about it, Cyrano. No worries, all right?"

No worries. Right.

"Easier said than done," I sighed. "But I'll take it under consideration. Still, I do feel somewhat better about it. I've been discussing the hypnotic procedure with Goodfellow."

"Grilling me is more like it," Robin cut in, "The Spanish Inquisition had nothing on your brother. Put him in a red smock and funny hat and he'd be employee of the month."

"Regardless," I said, redirecting the useless diversion. "As it stands now, I'm more confident in your abilities. I don't believe you'll turn Cal's mind into pudding."

"Damning with faint praise. Is that only a motto to you or do you actually have it tattooed on your ass?" Robin grinned brightly at me. _Don't_\- "And if so, can I see?"

"Whoa, don't even," Cal cried tauntingly. I shot him a look that had absolutely no effect and he went on. "You're the one who called him. You have no one to blame but yourself." He cocked his head to one side, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. "Oh, and your hot little tush of course."

I shoved the annoyance back in its box. Cal needed this when he was nervous, I knew it, but it didn't change the fact that we had work to do. I glanced at Robin who was still grinning and played along with a grimace.

"Exactly how long can you leave him under? Days, weeks, a decade or two?"

"Family, the gift that keeps on giving," Robin said.

"You don't have brothers?" Cal asked. "Lucky bastard." His elbow caught me in the rib and I sighed, allowing the diversion for the moment. It probably wouldn't hurt for Cal to be as relaxed as possible before we got started.

When he finally settled in the recliner I came to his side, placing one hand on his shoulder. I could read the nerves in his eyes. In his eyes and in that damn sweater.

"If you change your mind, Cal, at any time, simply speak up. Robin will stop immediately. Correct, Goodfellow?" If there was the hint of a threat in the words Goodfellow didn't comment.

I watched Cal get settled as Robin spoke to him. Something in his voice was different and I got the feeling he'd already started what was coming. Cal shifted uncomfortably, the nerves still obvious despite his smile.

"Nik, don't let him make me act like a chicken, okay?"

"I won't." I squeezed Cal's arm lightly, then tugged at his ear. "Not this time anyway." The familiar teasing succeeded and his muscles relaxed a little under my hand.

"Ready?" Robin repeated.

"Yeah," Cal breathed out in a long sigh. Part of a relaxation technique I'd taught him. Who knew, he listened. "Let's do it."

Robin leaned in close and the subtle shift in his voice grew more pronounced. "Listen to my voice, Cal. That's all you have to do. Listen. It'll be the easiest, most simple thing you've ever done. Just listen." I could feel my own mind growing cloudy and I shook my head, pulling my attention from Robin's voice and focusing on Cal. His face had gone relaxed and calm, as though asleep, though his breathing remained accelerated.

It was working, precisely as Goodfellow had described, and then there was a little hitch in Cal's breath and he went completely still. He didn't breathe in again.

"Robin?"

"There's nothing wrong with him," Robin insisted. His voice still had the calming sedate tone though I was in no danger of relaxing now. "He's just… he's holding his breath. Why is he-"

"He's hiding," I hissed, tightening my grip on Cal's shoulder and shaking him. "Get him out, get him out _now_."

"Give me a minute to work," Robin said, the calm tone fading a bit and annoyance taking its place. "We need to ask-"

"I said wake him up, do it n-"

It was too late. Cal breathed again, and then he screamed. Launching himself at Goodfellow, still screaming, Cal flailed madly, catching the puck once in the cheek before he could pull aside in shock.

"Cal-" I called, forcing my horror deeper into myself and only letting Cal see the calm. "Cal you're safe. You're home, nothing can hurt you. I won't let anything hurt you." For a moment I thought it had worked. The screaming stopped for a moment. Cal breathed. And then screamed again.

It tore. At my ears, at my heart. In that moment I'd have given _anything_ to make him stop screaming. My sword, my life, the lives of the ones who had hurt him, the lives of those who never had, my very soul. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered except stopping that terrified screaming. He bolted for the door but I was faster, One hand gripped his forearm like a vice, the other rapidly divesting him of each and every hidden weapon on his person before he could hurt himself.

"Goodfellow," I cried, "block the door. If he gets loose like this-" I couldn't finish the sentence. While my attention had been diverted Cal lunged at me, ripping at me with the only weapons he had left. I felt his fingers grip the first thing he could reach, my hair, and pull with all his might. Hair ripped and pain blossomed. You don't keep a liability like that without being certain it can't be used against you. And it couldn't. I ignored it, locked the pain up with the horror and shut the lid tight. I saw Goodfellow reach the door and lock the three locks and position himself in front of it. Cal twisted loose from my grip, taking hunks of hair with him in each hand.

A moment later Cal was tackling Robin, slamming his face into the ground, desperate to remove the obstacle between himself and _escape_. Goodfellow cursed in language I didn't understand though the meaning was easy enough to figure out. When I tore Cal from him he brought half of Robin's shirt with him, clenched in animalistic snarling teeth.

His eyes were open, wide, terrified, and focused about 1000 yards away.

"Cal!" I called desperately.

Have you ever kept your voice calm and reassuring while trying to be heard over the desperate terrified screams of someone you love?

Me neither.

My voice cracked and my vision swam. Which probably accounted for the strike I didn't see coming. Unarmed, he again relied on the tools nature had provided. He clawed at me with both hands then collapsed limp to the ground. I dropped with him, blinking away tears that still made it impossible to see clearly what he was doing until, a flash of silver and the belated thought of _ankle sheath_.

_Damn it, you're an idiot Niko. _

Cal shot out of his feigned collapse. There are no rules when you're fighting for your life. I'd drilled that into his head so many times... it seemed to have stuck. His form was excellent I noted somewhere in the back of my mind. Some people would not consider the armpit a high value target with a blade. Those people don't realize the axillary artery lies relatively unprotected, just below the surface. I threw myself backwards saving myself from a slippery death but not the shot of pain at the shallow wound. I grabbed Cal's arm and twisted the blade from his grip and tossed it across the room.

The screaming stuttered for a moment as wracking coughs doubled him over. He dropped to the floor and crawled, unseeing, until he hit the wall. Pausing only to breathe or be overtaken by horrible wet coughs, Cal curled up in the corner, seeking not the protection of the wall at his back to fight again but instead slamming his head into the corner and curling into a fetal position. The last defense of the desperate.

"ROBIN!" I cried over the screaming. Tearing my eyes from Cal I turned desperately to Robin. "You said you could bring him back!"

Robin was frozen, eyes wide. "I tried… he should…" his voice died and he stood stock-still as Cal's screams went on and on.

"Do _something_!" I cried again, He crouched behind Cal as well, a few feet buffer between them, murmuring soothingly with that peculiar tone in his voice again. I couldn't hear the words but I was more confident than ever that the words were not the point. Robin winced visibly as the screams amplified even more. They had a gruff crackling to them now. He'd damaged his throat. Much longer and it would bleed. I'd seen it before, the spray of blood from screaming. Then it would die altogether. Silent screams. But not Cal.

_Never Cal._

_Please, not Cal._

"Robin!" I shouted, "I trusted you. I trusted you. _Please_." Cal was rocking back and forth now, his head knocking into the wall with an audible rhythmic _thud... thud... thud…_

I shifted forward slightly, aching to place a hand on his shoulder, to pull him into my lap, to protect him from the hell he was seeing. I'd barely moved an inch forward when he winced away, thudding harder into the wall in response.

"I'm trying," Robin snapped, "something… Damn it all, something is fighting back."

"Cal?"

"Not Cal."

My gut twisted painfully and bile rose in my throat. There was nothing in my stomach to throw up, or the result might have been different.

_Useless._

_I am utterly useless._

_Nothing to fight, nothing to kill, I can't even touch him, can't even comfort him, what if we never get him back. What if it's too late. What if his mind is already broken. What if-_

My stomach heaved again.

_This isn't helping. I'm not helping._ I can feel the panic rising, and I shove it back down, focusing on the pressure of the tile floor on my knees, letting everything else fall to the background until my eyes clear and I can think again. Cal always thought meditation was 'a waste of a good naptime,' but as I stole those precious few seconds, training every part of my mind on the sensation of knees on tile it saved me. Saved me from breaking right there.

"Cal," I said calmly. I didn't try to shout over the screaming. He could hear me. I just needed him to hear me. "Cal, listen to me. I need you to focus. His hands were clenching and unclenching against the wall in time with my words. It was something, even if the screaming didn't stop. "Cal, I need you to focus on your hands. I want you to push out with your hands and feel the wall. Can you feel the wall, Cal? Hold that, focus on that feeling, the pressure." The screaming went on and I sagged…

"Don't stop-" Robin ordered suddenly, "keep talking. Whatever the hell you are doing keep doing it."

Swallowing back the bile, I pressed on, keeping my voice calm and measured. "You're going to be alright, Cal. Focus on the wall. Press your fingers into the wall and feel it press back. Stay with me. Stay here with me." Cal's hands had gone white from the desperate grip on the wall.

He was still screaming, coughing, choking but he clung to the wall. "You're doing great, Cal. Let everything else fall away. Everything but my voice and your hands and the wall." My mumbled words took on a rhythm of their own and I took a risk. I shifted a bit closer. Cal stiffened and I reached out my hand to him. _Come back. Please, little brother. Please come back._

Slowly the screams died down, replaced by desperate shuddering sobs. But he didn't move, stayed huddled in the corner, hands pressed flat to the wall, his head thumping its slow rhythm into the corner.

"Cal?"

_Thump, Thump, Thump_

"Come back, little brother."

_Thump, Thump, Thump_

"_Please_… Cal?"

He shifted slightly and began to turn. I froze, my hand extended but not moving another muscle, terrified that I'd spook him back into another fit. Terrified he wouldn't know me.

"Cal?"

"Nik?" His voice was a mere whisper, but every muscle in my body suddenly revolted against the tension, expressing a sincere desire to hit the floor and not come back up. He _knew_ me. I wanted to run to him. I wanted to beg for forgiveness. I wanted- It didn't matter what I wanted. I didn't move. I schooled my expression into calmness and waited for him to make the first move, my hand held out

"I'm right here, little brother. Everything's all right. We're home. Everything is fine."

One of Cal's hands dropped to the floor and he watched it, confused, as though it had moved without his volition.

"Fine? Oh. Okay." He winced and looked up at his other hand still pressed tight to the wall. It seemed to take an effort to move that hand, but he did so. "My throat hurts." He looked up in confusion. "Why does my throat hurt?"

Robin scrambled to the bathroom and I heard retching a moment later. My stomach wanted to do the same thing. If Robin hadn't finished my lunch it's possible I'd have been right there beside him. No, I corrected myself. I'd have done it right here. No way in hell was I leaving Cal alone right now.

"Something I said?" Cal attempted a smile and though it failed miserably I considered the effort an invitation.

"I think he blames himself." I moved closer. Slowly, smoothly, watching Cal for any fear. There was none. I laid my hands on his shoulders and gently turned him away from the wall. He didn't back away, didn't stiffen. Unable to resist a moment longer I pulled him into a hug. There was a desperation in it, I'm sure he could feel it. "He isn't alone."

"Nik, what happened? How'd I get down here?"

I held my little brother for a moment longer then pulled away to look at him. He was utterly bewildered. Robin had done it. He didn't remember. He would figure out that it had been bad. No way around that, but he didn't remember. A warm sensation on my cheek finally demanded my attention. I wiped it away with a hand and found the blood coated my hand and smeared across my face. "Ah, damnit," I sopped up the blood with the sleeve of my shirt and gave no more thought to it.

"What'd we learn? From the hypnosis? What the hell did we learn?"

"Nothing." I said quickly, helping Cal to his feet. "It didn't work, Cal, simple as that." Cal glanced up at me, frank disbelief in his eyes. "What'd I say?" He grabbed at my shirt, still visibly wobbly and I put a hand under his elbow to steady him. "When I was under, what did I say?"

"You didn't—" I stopped for a moment, his screaming echoing in my ears. I'd hear that screaming in my dreams for the rest of my life, I was entirely certain of that. "You didn't say anything, Cal. Not a word, I promise you." He wobbled again and I helped him to the couch, pushing him gently towards it. A breath of wind could have pushed him over right now and his breathing was raspy. I saw Robin coming back out of the bathroom, his face damp with water. He met my eyes and nodded to my unspoken request that he sit with Cal. "Sit down. I'll get you something for your throat."

I retreated into the kitchen, reaching for the wall to steady myself. My hands fumbled shakily over the kettle, hesitating in the familiar motions of making tea. When the water was set to boil I turned to the sink, running water and pulling out the first aid kit. I lifted the edge of my shirt tentatively, then altered course, slicing the damn thing off. Lifting my arm would have hurt like hell. His aim had been true, the puncture was a neat little thing. Surgical. A flush of incongruous pride washed through me as I wet a washcloth to clean the wound. A centimeter deeper and I'd have bled out in just a few minutes; listening to Cal's anguished screams as my life slipped away. My stomach rolled again and I didn't fight it this time, the little I'd managed for lunch coming up in the sink at the memory of that scream, the terror in his eyes, the terrible panic and fear I hadn't seen since, since he came back. And I'd let him go back there. That was the thrice damned worst part. I'd known, I'd known what he'd been like when he got back. I'd seen the horror in his eyes before. And I'd sent him back _there_, almost lost him there.

The wound was awkwardly placed, the kind of thing I would normally ask Cal to wrap for me. Slapping a bandage over the puncture wound I held it tight for a few moments to slow the bleeding while I slipped back into my bedroom for a clean shirt. I'd been wearing black, fortunately. It hid the blood; and the fact that there'd been enough of it that I'd needed a new shirt. I mopped up the blood on my face with the old shirt and rinsed them with clean water. The gashes on my face had bled profusely but briefly, as facial wounds so often did. It wasn't bleeding anymore but there was no hiding it. The red slashes stood out dreadfully against my skin, which had gone ashy. _He'd already noticed the blood on his fingernails. That would need damage control..._

The kettle was still warming on the stove and I could hear Robin's low voice speaking with Cal in the living room. It would be another three minutes or so until the water boiled. Setting a timer on my phone for two minutes, I closed the door of my room very carefully and sagged, boneless, onto the floor, letting my head fall with a thud against my door.

_Thud … Thud… Thud_

_Cal rocking back and forth, slamming his head into the corner of the wall._

_The desperate anguished scream. The fear in unseeing eyes. God, I'd almost lost him. I'd almost lost him _there_._

I ran damp hands through my hair and for one self indulgent moment I just wanted to stay here on the floor, head in my hands and sob bitterly.

_It isn't fair._

It sounded childish even in my own head but the thought came unbidden again and again.

_It isn't fair. He doesn't deserve this. Why can't the creatures that went bump in the night just leave my little brother alone. Please, please, just leave him alone._

The timer went off and I began to count breaths. Slowly, methodically, I put myself back together again until the kettle began to sing in the kitchen. One last breath. Two. Three.

My heartbeat calmed, slowed it's frantic pace by the deep even breaths of a practiced control. The walls went back up. Locks firmly in place. Control. Cal needed me.

_Cal needed me._

Honey for sweetness as well as its soothing properties. He'd never get it down otherwise. Garlic. Loquat syrup. Perhaps Ginger for the headache…

_Cal needed me._

I wouldn't let him down again.

* * *

_**I would say it's my first time writing these boys but wow does it feel like a Jones brothers au. Even so... New fandom... you guys always this quiet?**_


End file.
